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She sounded so mature and wise beyond her years. It broke my heart and tore me up inside. I had tried so hard to give her a childhood, but growing up with a mom like ours made that impossible.
I forced myself to my feet, drying my eyes with the sleeve of my sweater.
My suitcase still sat outside where Trent had left it. I grabbed it, bumping it along behind me.
“I made some hot chocolate,” Ivy smiled, but her eyes were filled with worry. “Would you like some?”
I nodded, letting my eight-year-old sister take care of me.
The door to my mom’s room was closed and the sounds of her having sex with either Jim or some guy she’d picked up at a bar filled th
e air.
I hated that Tristan and Ivy had been home listening to that. I left my suitcase by my closet door and climbed under the covers. Tristan scurried in beside me, his arms winding around my neck.
Ivy came into my room a few minutes later with hot chocolate.
“What’s wrong with you?” She asked softly. “Are you sick?”
I knew it must have been a shock for them to look outside and see me having a break down like that. They’d never seen me cry and I was sure it had frightened them.
“I’m okay,” I whispered, kissing the top of Tristan’s head and sliding our bodies over to the other side of the bed so Ivy could join us. “Why are you guys home?” I finally asked.
“Mom wanted us home,” Ivy shrugged. “I don’t know why.”
That woman. I hated her. I really did. She’d only wanted them brought home to punish me for leaving.
“How long have you been here?”
“Since last night,” Ivy climbed into my bed beside Tristan.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” I whispered.
“It’s okay.” Ivy reached for my hand. “I love you, Rowan. I wish you were my mom.”
“I wish you were my mommy too,” Tristan piped in.
And then I began to cry again.
chapter sixteen
I was supposed to work today.
Seeing as how Trace was my boss now, I wasn’t sure if I was welcome back at Wentworth Wheels.
I was sure Trent had told his family by now. They were close, so why wouldn’t he? They all probably hated me and I couldn’t blame them.
I wrestled with what to do, not knowing what would be the right thing.
In the end, I made myself get ready and take the kids to school. I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t show up and Trace expected me to be there, and I already had enough stuff to be angry at myself for, without adding something else.
I dropped the kids off and drove to work. All the while, chewing nervously on my bottom lip. It was raw and sore feeling by the time I arrived.
When I put my car in park, my heart was racing in my chest. I expected Trace to hear the sound of my car and come running out, yelling that I was never welcome here again.
That didn’t happen though, so I was forced to get out of the car.
I didn’t see Trace when I stepped into the building. I called out for him, but heard no reply.
